Usually when I browse CDs in a used music shop, I marvel at all the great deals I could have had if I didn’t have so damn many CDs already.
I’ll see a great Elvis Costello album for $2 or a little-known indie gem for a buck-fifty and envy the people who might stumble upon it after me and enjoy the thrill of discovery bundled with the satisfaction of a real bargain.
Meet Me In Montauk 